How To Forget Regrets
by Cheviot
Summary: Magic is often a convention used to make the user's life easier, however, sometimes it can just cause hardship. This magic -this curse- it's like a plague. The two hundredth year has passed since the date the countersurse was cast and the second won't be as effective. FrUk but romance is not the main point. Also hints of GerIta, PruCan, SpaMana, PruHun, ETC.
1. Chapter 1

-August 5th, 2006. World Meeting in London, England-

The personification of France was a man who was hard to miss. He had medium length blonde hair that was certain to be tangle-free, he had bright and charming blue eyes, and his smiling face could sweep any lady (and sometimes man) off of their feet. He was constantly flirting and England was sure that he had a god complex by now.

Today, everyone was sure that he was not at the mandatory world meeting. England was not bickering with him, the maids were not blushing as much, and the two remaining members of the Bad Touch Trio were not causing as much trouble with of their usual antics.

England rested his head on his arms as he thought to himself. Even if France was irresponsible, It was not usual that he played hooky during the world meetings. England found himself looking around to see if any other countries were missing. Only France. Even Sealand was there, although England had told him to go home. Like France, Sealand never listened. France was irresponsible. France was foolish. France was innapropriate. France was the top thing on his mind.

He looked over to the two members of the Bad Touch Trio by the large enterance door. Prussia was talking to America while Spain was teasing Romano with an armful of tomatos. Everything seemed okay. A desire to be social pulled him over there.

He stood from his chair, and walked over to them while trying to be casual. He wasn't afraid to admit that he was awkward in social situations.

"How has Germany's basement been treating you, Prussia?" England asked. He had been trying to think of something that would get back at Prussia for days. Yes, it had been days.

Prussia looked at him with his deep red eyes and gave his trademark laugh. "Better than living on the streets, I suppose."

"So," England continued casually. "Are you letting France get up to his mischief alone today, then?" Usually they would do something like put a bucket of water above the door just before England or Austria came in. Neither of them were soaked today.

"Nope! He is just at home," he replied.

"Why?" England asked.

Prussia looked around in a suspicious and very cliche way. He turned his attention back to England. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"And why would you wanna know that? What interest might you have in my Parisian friend?" Prussia poked the cheek of the taken back Brit. "You're blushing," he whispered. He blew into England's ear causing the blush to deepen.

England swatted Prussia away from his face. "I am not you git." The familiar frown appeared on his face. Forest green eyes narrowed into a glare.

"Oh well," Prussia said. "Maybe you will come to your senses. If it's information you want, it will only cost you a little." He held out his hand expectantly. Curling and uncurling his fingers in the 'give it to me' gesture.

"I am not going to pay you, idiot!" He began to make his way back to his chair. "I don't even care that much," he mumbled to himself. "Can't I get a decent conversation these days?"

Prussia called back to him. "Wait! I was just kidding, 'kay?"

England turned back to him. "Don't so 'kay'. Saying 'kay' isn't proper grammar."

"'kay."

England's migraine was growing worse. "Are you going to embarass me this time?" Prussia shook his head although it was hardly believable. "Now, why is France not here?"

"He is just a bit sick," chimed in Spain from the door. Romano glared at him angrily. America might have been a handful, England thought, but Romano must have been a whole different story. At least young America had his cute moments.

"France will be fine in a couple of days," Spain said.

Prussia nodded. "Yep." Prussia turned to America, ending the conversation between them.

"Are you sure he is okay?" England asked. "There is a saying about how idiots don't catch colds." As far as he knew, France's economy was currently very strong. Bad economy was usually the main cause of a nation getting a cold. That and particularly long wars, anyways.

"Sí. I am absolutely sure mi amigo will be fine," Spain said. "I am just a little worried about Italy."

"What did you say about me?" Italy Romano interjected. "If it was anything about yesterday then I swear-"

"Necesitas estar mas tranquilo, mi tomate petite. I was talking about Italia Veneziano."

"You better have been," South Italy said with a scowl. He sat against the wall and huffed.

"What is wrong with Veneziano?" England asked. He searched the room for the familiar copper curl. He found it where he expected, by Germany and Japan. They seemed to be talking, but he couldn't exactly tell from his position.

"He seems a bit depressed due to his big brother being sick."

"What?" Romano began again.

Spain turned and gave Romano a soft smile. "Veneziano considers France his big brother too, tomate," he cut him off. England was grateful that he only called Romano "tomato". He imagined it would be awkward if your nickname was a fruit.

"Anyways, you should go talk to him, England."

"Hmm... You know our relationship really isn't the best, right?" They rarely talked other than greeting eachother.

"You are his big brother's friend. I am sure any sort of support from you would be great," Spain said. "If something is wrong with Italy, then we know it must be serious."

England nodded his head. "That's true, but me and France aren't really friends either," England said. He had been fighting France to death since birth. What about that made them seem like friends? It was completely normal to have the name of your enemy to be echoing endlessly through your head, always wanting to form into spoken words.

Spain frowned. "France seems to be quite friendly to you. Maybe if we all just came together and ate some tomatos then we could all come to understand each other." He then proceeded to beam happily. He snatched a tomato out of the angry Italian's arms and handed it to England. "Go."

Spain pushed England toward Italy Veneziano's direction then turned to deal with Romano's yelling. England stumbled forward before catching himself.

He walked up to Italy. Veneziano had his head down as he was looking through a magazine. He pulled himself up as he noticed England's shadow falling over the pages.

"Hello, Italy," England said with a nervous smile.

"Oh, Ciao. Were you needing something?" Italy looked a bit confused as to why England would address him.

"I just wanted to see... umm... So what is that magazine about? Is it a cooking magazine?" Italy always seemed to be talking about food whenever they did have that rare conversation.

"No. It is a gardening magazine that Mrs. Leichtenstien sent to me. It was kind of hard for her to do with Switzerland watching her 24/7, but it all worked out." Italy held the magazine up to England for him to see. On the cover there was a picture of the Keukenhof garden in Netherlands. England laughed at the thought of Netherlands gardening.

"Is something funny?" Italy asked him. He opened his honey brown eyes just a little.

"No. Nothing at all," England said. The only word that he could think of when he saw that glimpse of honey brown was 'drained'.

"Okay." He said calmly. The Italy he knew would start a riot before being calm.

"Do you like gardening?"

"Not particularly," Italy replied.

"Then why did Mrs. Leichtenstien go through the trouble of getting that to you? Isn't that just a little... well, too troublesome?"

Italy flinched at the last word and looked down. "Well, I don't really know. I was thinking of gardening tomorrow to relax before the festivities of this month start. There's always a lot happening this month, you know."

"My country also celebrates alot this month. The Great British Beer Festival will be in a couple of days. How about I help you out tommorow?" Oh god, the social anxiety was killing him.

Italy looked a bit unsure. "It's a sunday. I will have church tomorrow morning."

"My boss wants me to attend church too. Can I come afterwards?"

"Well, it's the first sunday... and umm... Tomorrow is kind of..." Italy trailed off and looked back down to a picture mixed zinnia in his magazine.

"Is something wrong?" England asked him.

"No. I think tomorrow might be okay. Come over at two pm. Just remember the time change."

"If you don't want me to come over, I won't."

"No. I really do want you to come over." Italy looked up at him. "Okay?"

Author Note: Other than Italy, I hope none of the characters were too OOC. Italy's OOCness is related to the plot, so just go along with it. Oh- and a hint: the date is important. Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

-August 6th, 2006. England's house in London, England-

Sometimes when you wake up, you know it will be one of those days. The 'walking around like your half-dead' sort of days. England opened his eyes and the clock read eleven. Yes, it would be one of those days.

He had stayed up late the previous night reading Harry Potter until one in the morning. it was still in his lap because he was still reading it when he fell asleep. He put the book on his bedside, and rubbed his eyes.

He had to leave now if he wanted to be at Italy's by two. It was already one at Italy's House.

England pulled his clothes on and ate a quick breakfast. Sealand and Wy were watching television in the sitting room. He waved both of him and his maid 'goodbye' before leaving.

He went outside to where his jet was already waiting. That's one of the perks of being paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to simply be living.

The jet ride to Venice took and hour and a half. England planned what he would say to Italy while the pilot to his side drove the jet. When he got to Venice, it took him another half hour to go by rented boat to his house.

He took a second to compose himself and plan his words before he knocked. When he did, Italy's face appeared at the window and the door swung open.

"Ciao, Inghilterra!" He said to him. "Would you like to come inside? I have already finished gardening."

"I thought you said that you had church. Did you not go?" England asked him. As far as England knew, Italy Veneziano and his brothers were very religious. He never accepted invitations to anything that took place on Sunday.

"Sì. I went to San Giocomo di Rialto..."

"You didn't really go, did you?" England asked him. Italy was as easy to read as a book.

"No," Italy replied. "I did go. I really did."

Seeing that it was making him uncomfortable, England tried his best to change the topic of conversation. "I accidentally slept in. I am probably going to have a long talk with the queen when I get home," he said. The corner's of Italy's mouth turned upwards, but not enough to form a smile. He pushed the door a little to signal that he wanted to go inside.

Italy lead him through a hallway lined with flowerpots and old photos. England recognized a few people in the photos and a few of the plants.

There was Romano beside a yellow hyacinths, France among several types, and Germany next to striped carnations. At the end, there was a painting of a blonde boy in black next to pink carnations.

"Is that Germany?" England asked while pointing to it.

Italy turned to look at him. It seemed eternity before he shook his head to signal 'no'. England didn't ask how he got the flowers to stay alive while they were long out of season. He walked to the kitchen and England followed. Wet towels covered the kitchen floor.

"What is this?" England asked him. He hoped that would not bring awkward silence as well. It seemed like an innocent question. However, the other one did too...

Italy crossed his arms. "The water level rose in the canal and a bit of water got into the houses." Squishing noises were made while they walked to the table. Italy sat down and England after. "This side of the house is still a bit wet."

"It will be okay, won't it?"

"It will." A small smile reappeared on Italy's face. "So, What now?"

"I just wanted to know something. Did you really do all the gardening by yourself?" England asked him. Surely he didn't pot all of those plants by himself. There must have been fourty at the least.

"No. Romano and Seborga helped me with all the plants you see now." He spoke with his hands, and gestured to the plants as he said what he did.

They talked for a while. Politics, sports, religion, social issues, technology advancements. Although they rarely talked, they didn't have bad relations. Eventually, there was a knock on the door. Italy got up to answer it and England followed him out of curiousity.

When Veneziano opened the door, Romano was standing at the step with his clothes soaked and Seborga was smiling.

"Good afternoon, Veneziano. Good afternoon, England," Seborga greeted them as he walked through the open door. England had talked to him a few times. He was a micronation in Veneziano's territory that sometimes hung around with Sealand and Wy. He remembered once when Wy and him came over to play with Sealand, Sealand was basically Canadian when Seborga turned his attention towards Wy.

Romano growled. "Get back here, idiot!" Water dripped from his hair. He pulled it back and began wringing out the ends of his shirt. England's orderliness kicked in as the wrinkles started to appear. Romano stepped inside and water dripped to the floor.

"What happened, Romano?" England asked him. He was trying to be polite but Romano glared at him.

"That idiot there was playing around in the gondola and he made me fall out!" His eyes were like daggers when he looked at Seborga. "Control your micronation, Veneziano!"

Italy went to the closet and grabbed a red towel out of a large stack. Romano's harsh expression lessened as Veneziano began to dry his hair.

"Thank you... What's for dinner?" He said a bit more calmly than he had said anything in a while.

"Well, I was thinking about making some British game pie since England is here."

"No. I will be leaving soon. You don't need to do that," England said. Italy turned to him. There was no smile on his face.

"But... I was making dinner 'specially for you... Please stay, Inghilterra." England couldn't find it inside of himself to deny Italy.

"Alright. I will stay." Veneziano slightly cheered and Romano scowled. England could hear Seborga laughing from the kitchen.

Author Note: Is there any danger in falling into the canal? If water levels rised enough, do you think Venice could become an uninhabited tourist attraction? Chapterly hint: The language of flowers. Anyways, thank you for reading this chapter. There are more to come!


	3. Chapter 3

-August 6th, 2006. The Italians' Residence in Venice, Italy-

It seemed that Italians were better at cooking British food than actual British people. England was in complete bliss as he was eating his meal. He wanted to savor the flavor forever. He didn't know whether he should be depressed that he couldn't cook that well or if he should just appreciate it.

Romano's hair was still wet by dinner, but he had changed out of his old clothes into a graphic t-shirt with a picture of an Italian rock band along with some jeans. England looked down at his two piece suit and wondered if he may have been a bit too dressed up for the occasion. Thankfully, forgetting to change into some clothes for gardening did not end up being a problem.

They didn't eat in silence. Seborga was talking the entire time with Romano yelling for him to be quiet. England would have been annoyed if not for his meal. Veneziano just looked over them as if he were some sort of shepard looking over his bleating sheep.

"Hey, hey, England! Why don't you come over sometime?" Seborga asked cheerfully. He smiled like he didn't have a care in the world. "Just remember to bring a pretty girl with you."

England sighed. Seborga always seemed to be talking about one girl or another. Hair, eyes, clothing. It didn't matter. Seborga was a real flirt. He remembered when Seborga and Wy came over to visit Sealand. With Seborga's attention directed towards Wy, Sealand was basically a Canadian to him.

"I'm not sure if I would have the time to come over," He lied.

"Do you think you could convince someone like Belgium or even Ukraine to come if you do? Just don't bring Belarus. It is a gamble just to bring Ukraine because of Russia, but bringing Belarus is just suicide if you know what I mean." Yes, He did know what he meant.

England finished the last bite of his food. He had tried to make sure to save the best bite for last, but Seborga had stolen some of his food when he was talking to Veneziano. Veneziano almost looked ready to scold him.

After dinner, Italy took up the plates. It looked like there might have been a bit too many of him, so England took some off of his hands and asked him if he wanted any help washing dishes. Italy didn't seem like the type to enjoy chores anyways.

"Ve- That would-" Italy started with a smile. It quickly melted away to that out of character straight face. "No. I think I can do it by myself."

"Cheer up, Veneziano. Just let him help," Romano said to him. "After the jerk came into our house uninvited and all, that is the least he could do."

"Just so you know, this was a planned event," England sneered at him. Romano stuck out his tongue childishly.

"Just go help Veneziano," he commanded.

England followed Italy to the kitchen. They set the dishes in the sink. After Italy put on a white apron, they began.

"Hey, are you really okay? You have seemed a bit out of it lately." England said to him as he scrubbed a plate.

"Ve- Yeah. It is just that... Well, big brother is sick. I am kind of worried," Italy looked down.

"Kind of? It seems to be a little bit more than that. However, you don't have to be worried," England said. He was trying to remember how would cheer America up when he was little. "France would never let something as stupid as a cold overcome him for too long."

"Hey, England?" Italy said to him. There was a look in his eyes that screamed his yearning to say something.

"Feel free to call me Arthur," England said. Maybe casualness could improve their relationship.

"It's nothing." The look disappeared. England thought that he might have gone a bit too far to make that request.

England and Italy were almost done with the dishes. England looked out the glass door as something dark passed it. Something small, but quick.

He walked over to the door with a cup still in his hands. He put his hands to the glass, but saw nothing because it was already dark outside.

Then, he clutched his ears as an ear-splitting scream was heard. The cup fell from his hands and shattered instantly on the floor. He crouched as he held his ears until it stopped. Italy ran over to him.

"What is it Eng- Arthur?" Italy asked him. He carefully stepped around the broken glass and crouched beside England.

"Did you hear that?" England asked him. He could only hear what Italy said by a little.

"Yeah. The glass hitting the floor was so sudden that I jumped," Italy said with a small smile. "Don't worry though. These cups are really old. You have nothing to regret."

England was stunned and wondered if he had even heard the screech.

Italy went to the closet and shoveled through it. After a moment, he brought out an old broom and started to clean up the mess.

As Italy did so, England went to the doorway of the kitchen, looking to Seborga. He was still sitting at the dining table, playing with a pack of cards.

"Hey, what was that noise?" Seborga said, looking up at him. England went closer to him.

"Did you hear that scream?" He asked in a whisper. He didn't want to scare Veneziano.

"Wait, what?" Seborga said in the same if not louder level of voice. "All I heard was glass shattering."

"Yeah, I accidentally dropped a cup. Sorry." England said as he turned to go back to the kitchen. In the kitchen, he noticed that the glass door to the court yard was now open. Italy stood by it as cool air drifted in. In the court yard there were many more flowers growing.

"I opened it to let some fresh air in," Italy said as he emptied the dust pan into the trash.

"Isn't there fresh air inside?" England joked. He was trying to lighten the mood. Italy smiled.

England looked back to the door. He really wanted to see the garden. He was scared though that something that was not supposed to be there was. None of his magical friends were there to help him if something bad happened.

"It's okay. You can go out if you want," said Italy. "I will finish the rest of the chores.

"I will help, just give me a minute," England replied. He made his way out the door and began to look around for anything suspicious. He couldn't help but be amazed at the floral as he searched around. He came to the middle of the court yard, looked back towards the kitchen door.

Then, he felt himself falling backwards.


	4. Chapter 4

-August 6th, 2006. German's Residence in Berlin, Germany-

Prussia wobbled as he walked down the hallway. His head felt dizzy and his stomach felt like it was practicing gymnastics. Somersaults and back flips. Once in the living room, he sat down and switched the television from hockey to the Animal Planet. A documentary about elephants was on.

"Elephants are just sad creatures that want to be birds. They wish they could be as awesome as you," he said as he pulled Gilbird out of his hair. He stroked his yellow feathers back as he continued to watch the un-awesome elephants.

He felt a soft tap on the shoulder, and looked around. The self proclaimed hero was sitting beside him.

"America, what are you doing here?" As far as he remembered, he had banned America from coming over. Or at least, Germany banned him after Prussia and he spray painted graffiti on the side of Germany's house. "

"It's Canada," The country said quietly. He sighed and looked down as if disappointed. Prussia rubbed his ruby red eyes and a wide grin appeared on his face.

"Oh! It's you, buddy. My little birdie! My albinism must be kicking in, it was like I thought you were America. Do you want a beer?" He chuckled and held his can up to Canada for him to drink it. "Go ahead. I won't mind."

Canada shook his head. "No, Gil."

Prussia gave his familiar laugh. "What are you talking about? Are you too fancy to drink out of my can?"

Canada shook his head once more. "You're drunk. You need to go to bed."

"I am not drunk! Even if I drank a thousand more, I would still be fine. You just want me to get na-"

"I'm going to leave, okay?" Canada stood up from the couch and made his way towards the front door. "Bye, Prussia."

Prussia waved back like a child. "Bye, little birdie! Remember to call me Gil next time, 'kay?"

Canada gave another little wave back and opened the door. A man was in front of him, and he held his hand out as if he were going to knock. The man stumbled back a little, then stood up straighter.

"Hello, sir. I have papers for Ludwig Beilschmidt, the nation of Deutschland or Germany. Could he happen to be available?" He rummaged through his "satchel" and brought out a large manila envelope. On the top was "August 6th, Deutschland" written in red pen.

Canada looked around to make sure Prussia was not standing behind him. After finding that he wasn't, he pointed to himself. "Are you talking to me?"

The man looked confused. "Well, yes. I suppose that I don't usually talk to myself." The man allowed himself a smile. The laugh-wrinkles from old age were more defined.

Canada was a bit taken back and he felt his heart speed up a bit. This definitely isn't normal, he thought to himself. He smiled back at the man.

"Germany left about an hour ago. He probably won't be back until midnight," He said to him. "His brother is here though, albeit a bit out of it." Right on cue, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Prussia looked at him with the same mischievous glint in his eye.

"I am the awesome Prussia! I will take your bills, or mail, or what-cha-ma-call-it," He held his hand out to the surprised man expectantly.

"Ah, umm..." His education told him that he probably shouldn't give it to Prussia, but his decision was still a bit half and half. Perhaps it was because the red eyes and white hair made him a bit more intimidating than the average person.

"Just hand it over to the awesome me. You know I am awesome because there is no 'awesome' without 'me'."

"Oh, okay..." The man handed the envelope to him. Prussia took Canada's arm, brought him a few inches away from the door frame, then made a point to slam the door loudly.

"Gil... Was that really necessary?" Slamming doors was thought of as rude and disrespectful where he lived. He knew that Germany probably wouldn't approve of it either.

"Of course! I heard that man mistake you for America." Prussia flopped back onto the couch, causing Gilbird to have to resettle back into his previous position.

"No. That was you," Canada said softly.

Prussia shook his head rapidly. "No way. I would never mistake you for someone else. You are my awesome birdie!"

A wide grin appeared on Canada's face. "That man recognized me, Gil. He didn't confuse me with someone else and he didn't look right through man saw me."

Prussia jumped up from his seat, causing Gilbird to fly to the top of the lamp annoyed. He burst out laughing.

"Wunderbar! I'm so happy for you. I will get us some more drinks, making sure to add maple syrup, and then we can watch your little hockey show all night."

Author Note: Thanks for reading. Everything's pretty straight forward in this chapter so there won't be a hint. :)


	5. Chapter 5

-August 6th, 2006. England's Memories-

It was like a dream, but perhaps it was more like a nightmare. His body moved without his consent. He spoke words without trying. He could only watch as a moment of his childhood was playing out in front of him. His childhood self rose his head to see a younger version of France standing a few feet away. Nostalgia crept through him as France's young voice spoke out to him. His medium length blonde hair was blown in the soft wind. He was older than him, but still in his youth. Both of them were still so innocent and naive.

"Salut! Why are you playing around on the ground, little caterpillar?" France said as he stood over him. His hand sat on his hip and his eyes were full of worry. England sat up from his spot. If only he could have remembered his friendship with France through all the tough years to come. His mouth opened and words came out:

"I am not a caterpillar and I don't have to tell you anything," England scoffed. His mind told him that he had actually been looking for the cute rabbits that lived there. Unfortunately, it seemed they were scared of him.

"Whatever." France replied. He ran his fingers through his wavy hair.

"Not just 'whatever'. Don't be that way."

"Hey, Arthur?" France asked him.

"I was trying to say something, frog."

"Do you see that person over there?" He pointed to the other side of the wheat field they stood in. England turned around to see a girl in the distance. The color of her long black hair clashed with her pale skin. She seemed to be looking towards the cloudless sky.

"There shouldn't be anyone here. This is a secret place." England said. He stood up and started to make his way over to the girl. France caught the cuff of his sleeve and wouldn't let go when England tugged.

"Don't rush into trouble, my little caterpillar. What if she is from one of the enemy countries here to hurt us." He cautioned. His blue eyes were wide and full of fear. He was only a child back then, thought the mature England.

"You're only paranoid," said the younger England. He rolled up his sleeves and looked back to him. "Most woman are not sent as assassins. If she is one, I have my sword." He patted the silver sheath at his side an pulled out a dagger. Being so small, it was a sword to him. "Your previous war has gotten to you."

"Fine. Just let me come with you." France said. England sighed as France followed after him. As they neared the woman, she turned to look at them. Her face was covered in blood and cuts. Her arms and legs as well. She looked like she had gone through a field of ran over to her and England put his dagger away. It was not necessary.

"Are you okay, miss?" They asked. She looked at them but said nothing. "Miss? Miss?" They dropped to her side when she fell to the ground. Her eyes were closed. Her heartbeat was slow.

"Francis, help! What do we do?" England cried. Tears ran down his cheeks. He was hundred of years old, yet still had the mind of a child. A small child that still feared things like the dark and masked men.

France made a simple yet cruel statement: "She is a human, Arthur. They die." Memories of hundreds of dying people flashed through his mind. People he loved died just as much as people he hated. And everytime someone in his country died, it was like a small pinprick to his still fragile heart.

England stopped. He was absolutely shocked at what he was hearing. As the words were processed, his face reddened with anger. His arm moved without hesitation. His hand smacked against France's face.

"Idiot! She may die one day but she doesn't have to die now!" He screamed with all of his heart. France put a hand to the bruise on his face. "People may die. Even loved ones may die. She doesn't have to!"

"But-" France started. England cut him off with his own words.

"How could you be so terrible?" Tears fell down his face. "How?"

"Je suis désolé. Je suis vraiment désolé. I am sorry." France set his hand on the woman's as he looked at her closed eyes. "I'll help. How?"

England still seethed with anger. "You stay here," he told him. "I will go get my mom's magic book, 'kay?" He stood and started to run through the field, through the town, through his house.

He found the leather bound book and returned as quick as possible. He ignored all distractions. Even the rabbits he had previously been looking for. He didn't stop for a second. When he had found them again in the long grass on the field, he fell to his knees. He could feel bruises form from the impact.

"You have to hurry, England. I don't think she can continue much longer."

England flipped through the book and found the page he was looking for; healing fatal wounds. He took a quick look at the instructions, and began reading the words. It should work. It must work.

The woman's eyes opened, but she was not healed. Her cuts were still open. The blood still formed in the fresh wounds.

"It won't work," she said in a soft yet trembling voice. Her voice was so beautiful yet sad, it bore a hole into England's eternal soul. "I'm not from here."

"What do you mean?" England cried. "The magical world of my friends?" The woman only shook her head and closed her eyes once more.

He didn't understand her last words. She told him a name of a world he would not hear of again for many years:

"Closed space."

England didn't listen. Even though she thought it wouldn't work, England had to continue trying. He flipped through the book once more, to the healing spell for magical creatures. He read the instructions. It wasn't as simple as the last spell.

"It says that I will need a charm holder. The spell will..." He shook his head. He couldn't quite read the large words. "Anyways, we need someone to help. It can't be me or the lady." He turned to France. "Will you do it? You're immortal, so it can't hurt."

France smirked. "For this beautiful woman, of course. How much of a heroic man would I be if I didn't?"

England didn't smile. Instead, he began to read the spell. His right hand was on the woman's hand while his left hand held France's. France gripped England's hand loosely, but his hold gradually tightened.

He didn't open his eyes even as France cried out in pain. It was sacrifice. When he did open his eyes, France also laid upon the long grass. His arms were wrapped tightly around his torso.

Tears welled up into his eyes as he shook France. He wouldn't wake. Letters were etched into his skin as scars. The words he said as a spell were now part of his body.

"Wake up!" He yelled to them. He turned to the girl, but she wasn't breathing. "You have to be okay!"

The memory floated off into the distance. He was no longer a child, but himself.

England opened his eyes to see that he was still standing in the garden of beautiful flowers, exactly where he had been. He breathed slowly in and out.

The memories of what just happened were still fresh in his mind. He felt like he would go insane. That couldn't have been real, he thought to himself. Even so, he knew that it was.

He made his way through the kitchen where Italy still cleaned, through the dining room with it's floor covered in towels, past the painting of the boy that wasn't Germany, through the hallway filled with flowers long out of season, and opened the front door. Germany and Japan stood in front of him.

"England-san, are you okay?" Japan asked. England nodded.

Then, he went home.

Author Note: Thank you for reading. I really appreciate it. Hint: The first letter of each chapter is seperated. I'm also trying to subtly show which characters have a close relationship by which ones call eachother by their human names.


	6. Chapter 6

-August 7th, 2006. England's house in London, England-

England jumped as a loud thump was heard from his sitting room. He left the Harry Potter book he was reading on his desk so that he could go investigate.

He crept through the hall to the door leading to the sitting room and peered inside. He would have congratulated himself for being stealthy if Prussia hadn't decided to open the door at that moment. It smacked against England's head and he fell back. Prussia took a second to assess the situation, but ended up laughing his head off.

"Be quiet, you git. It isn't funny," England said as he rubbed his forehead. Prussia flopped onto the floor infront of England as he continued to laugh. England scowled.

After Prussia calmed down, he said, "Hey. I climbed in through the window." He pulled the door back open so that he could show England that it was open.

"Why did you do that?" England said with a frown.

"Because it was unlocked. There is no better way to get into a house," Prussia replied. "Anyways, I needed to talk to you about something."

England stood up, because sitting on the floor wasn't very much like a gentleman, and patted the dust off of his khaki pants. Prussia followed suit, probably because he thought that it wasn't too awesome sitting there.

"No, I think we still need to talk about the window."

"What's there to talk about?" Prussia asked him.

"You can't just come in through the window all the time. I will have to get the locks reinforced if you don't stop." England entered the sitting room and closed the window. He could see that it was going to rain soon as he looked through it.

"Moving along," said Prussia. "It's about birdie."

"Is Gilbird sick or something? You know that is easily fixed." England went to rejoin him at the door and they began to walk back to England's office.

"I don't mean my awesome canary. I mean my awesome Canadian," Prussia said as if that were supposed to be obvious. He crossed his arms and sat in the extra chair in the office.

"What's Canadian supposed to mean?"

"Canada, England. I mean Canada."

It took a few seconds before recognition flashed across his face. He was a bit ashamed of himself for once again forgetting Canada.

"So what is the problem with him?" England asked. He did not imagine that he would be able to help if he could not remember long enough, but he would try his best.

"Well, I never said that it was a problem. It is more of a... unexpected circumstance!" Prussia smiled as he thought of the appropriate term.

"Just get on with it."

"Well, the other night, Canada was recognized. We don't know what this means since it doesn't happen at all."

England thought for a moment. It was true that the circumstance wasn't normal. Perhaps the person who recognized him was special. It could have been one of his magical friends, but usually they didn't even take notice.

"Was there anything else unusual?" he asked him. Prussia shook his head.

"He was just a delivery man," Prussia said to him. "There wasn't anything about him at all."

England rested his cheek on his hand. Maybe the delivery man was playing a prank on the both of them. He highly doubted it, but it was a possibility.

"Hey, is August 6th an important date or something?" England asked. Prussia immediately looked away. He shook his head again.

"It's nothing to important," Prussia replied. England stood up and Prussia shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I said it's nothing."

"God help me, Prussia, this information might be important!" England sighed in frustration. Prussia rose from his chair and left the room. He heard Sealand call to him in the hallway, but he didn't hear Prussia respond.

Author Note: Does anyone know what it is yet? This chapter is short but don't worry.


End file.
